


Blurred Lines and Bucket Lists

by dhyanshiva



Series: Character Contemplations [2]
Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23734879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhyanshiva/pseuds/dhyanshiva
Summary: ''This man, who has only love to give to give to the world around him, expected nothing in return. Until now.”Or the one where Chaman Tripathi listens to his conscience and redraws the battle lines.
Relationships: Kartik Singh & Chaman Tripathi, Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: Character Contemplations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815457
Comments: 18
Kudos: 37





	Blurred Lines and Bucket Lists

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely inspired by Chapter 12 of 'The Glass Mosaic' by Sargun.  
> Her work, in general, is simply outstanding and this ongoing piece has me completely invested, it's just that magnificent - 10/10 would recommend!
> 
> Truly, I wonder how I haven't written from Chaman's perspective before. I am him, after all (according to Sam's quiz)!  
> This character had my heart from the opening scene. He's earnest and sincere and though e's not always the most succinct or clear, his heart is in the right place. Manurishi Sir's performance made him the best 'boomer' there, I think!
> 
> The music I listened to while penning (or is it typing?) this is the beautiful flute track from the background score - it's both heartbreaking and uplifting, a masterpiece really.
> 
> Do let me know what you thought of this!
> 
> Much love,  
> Dhyan x

Chaman Tripathi lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. How could the others rest, as if their conscience were still light as a feather? Every time he shut his eyes, he heard Aman’s screams deafening him and he could feel the tension in his nephew’s body as he’d held him back (with great difficulty) from the debacle happening in front of them. For the hundredth time, he found himself doubting that choice. For so long, he’d listened to his older brother, his Shankar bhaiyya. Yes, as they’d grown older, differences had arisen between them. But as much as he wished to, at times, no force had ever been powerful enough to question the allegiance he’d sworn himself to. This week had taken him completely by shock. The lines had been blurred, between right and wrong, between ‘family’ and foe’.

Nothing could have prepared him for a man named Kartik Singh. He’d turned up in that ridiculous outfit, with a wide grin on his face. Chaman liked him at once, for there was something that endeared you to this young man the moment you met him. But what sent warmth flooding through him was the transformation he saw in Aman. His reserved nephew had a spark in his eyes, an equally broad smile on his face. He was truly happy and free, something Chaman had been praying for since Aman had left home for university. The memory of them together, that introduction in a crowded train compartment, brought tears to his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the disappointment and lifelessness of Kartik’s face, his exhaustion. And Aman, oh God, Aman.. he’d been shattered completely. Turning his head, he saw his wife fast asleep, unperturbed and unable to take this feeling of being stifled, he got out of bed, heading downstairs.

The sight that met him downstairs broke Chaman’s heart even more. Aman was curled up in a small chair next to the cot where Kartik lay unconscious. One hand lay over the beaten man’s, the other clutching two pieces of paper. That there was no expression on his nephew’s face shook Chaman more than he’d expected. Aman was never one to say much but his face was an open book, his eyes the window to his soul. The young man before him had on a blank mask, gaze vacant. He didn’t react in the slightest, even as Chaman approached him. As he got closer, the older man saw tear tracks and only when he lay a hand on his shoulder was Aman jolted out of his thoughts, his own head. Their gazes met and Aman saw must have seen the turmoil that Chaman just couldn’t hide, for he nodded slightly and smiled slightly.

“Chacha, aap yahaan? Please, take a seat.”

Chaman all but collapsed onto the chair. A quick glance at the pair and his focus became their clasped hands, the way Aman’s grip had tightened and the way he leaned closer to Kartik, as if to protect him. At this, he was reminded of Kartik’s promise, his voice earnest yet devoid of warmth. It was resilience and protectiveness that had driven him to say that. He’d held out on his promise and it was mirrored now in the way Aman sought to shield Kartik from him. Chaman didn’t expect anything different. He could see the disappointment that Aman felt towards him. They shared a very different bond to the taut one between father and son. It had been warmer and many a time, Aman had confided in his uncle, trusting him. That seemed to have changed entirely and the frigidity now made Chaman’s eyes well up.

“I don’t think I was right to hold you back, I’m sorry.”

There was a flash of surprise, gone before Chaman could react and the whispered response, ‘It’s too late’ prompted him to reach out and squeeze the younger man’s shoulder. He looked up and the tears in his eyes drew out the words that danced on the tip of his tongue. And before he could think twice, they were out in the open and the feeling of relief soon overpowered the shock.

“No, it’s not. Your love is worth fighting for, believe me. And I’m with you both, I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Something changed in Aman, and the lawyer in him was ecstatic – the feeling was akin to finally cracking an elusive case. He’d finally done the right thing, consequences be damned. Aman straightened and for the first time, Chaman noticed what was on the papers clutched close to his chest. One, he recognised immediately, the blurred ink in some of the important words ‘Kartik’, ‘marriage’ and ‘Kusum’ giving it away. It was the agreement he’d handed over to bhabhi. Chaman hadn’t dared say a thing when he saw the piece of paper – his lone voice of descent would be drowned out by the ecstatic clamour of prayers and plans for grandchildren.

The other was a bullet pointed list, the heading hidden from sight till Aman laid it out so both of them could see. The script was neat as ever and Chaman took a moment to register what it said. Underlined, and in bold read ‘Kartik Singh’s Bucket List’. Chaman read further, expecting to see a list that would be continued overleaf. It confused him to see that the list ended half way down the front side. He looked up and his feelings must have been easy to decipher – why was he showing this to him? Chaman followed his movement and tried to comprehend the statement that Aman was pointing to. There, number 4 of 10 read ‘Meet Aman’s family (I hope they like me!)’. Chaman didn’t know he’d been crying till Aman’s voice brought him out of the storm of his thoughts and emotions.

“You’d think by looking at him, listening to him talk, that Kartik would have a list longer than this, pages even. I’d thought the same, at first. But Kartik learnt very early on, bachpan mein hi, in fact, not to expect much from the world. Isiliye, this list is so short, nothing outrageous either. He’d told me once: Aman, destiny likes dealing me a bad hand, over and over. You’re one of the few good things I’ve had the fortune of being blessed with - a stellar hand, I must say. How does one react to that, chacha? This man, who has only love to give to give to the world around him, expected nothing in return. Until now.”

Chaman could feel the regret and pain threaten to pull him under as he listened to Aman’s soft voice, so tender and affectionate as he spoke of his lover. He recalled the bravado in Kartik's voice, the underlying fear evident only to him and Aman, it seemed. His priority was to have Aman taken away to safety. Even then, in the face of a beating, his first priority had been to keep Aman safe. Chaman had seen through the upbeat tone – the young man definitely expected to die, or something too close to that. The ‘aakhri wish’ quip had been said in complete seriousness but countered with a query about a gun license. Kartik had effectively shifted the attention away from himself and back to the situation at hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Chaman saw his nephew’s phone, the display bright and showing the boys’ chat on WhatsApp. It was dated to about a year ago and that part of the conversation had a forwarded message, from someone named Devika. A photo could be seen too, with a list like this.

Number 4 seemed to jump out at him and Chaman had to look away. They’d failed this wonderful boy completely. Aman was right. The expectation of love from those you consider family isn’t a big ask. And what had his bhaiyya and bhabhi done? The complete opposite. Unsurprisingly, in the process, they’d lost their only son. Where they stood to be gifted with another son, this gem of a person, they’d turned a blind eye. Kartik was wonderful and really, in this household, only 4 people seemed to see this: Rajni, Keshav, Aman and himself. At the thought of Rajni, a wave of gratitude enveloped him. He recalled Shankar Tripathi, in his indignation and shock, writing off his daughter as ‘paraaya dhan’. Really, to Kartik, Rajni Tripathi was just Aman’s cousin but he’d treated her like his own and brought her home, safe and sound. It stung him, to hear her say that no one had come to look for her. Another example of where his silence had cost him something invaluable, someone irreplaceable.

At this, Chaman’s resolve strengthened even further. Lord knows how close he’d come to losing his daughter forever. Aman had effectively signed his death warrant and his desperation, his need to escape was a silent scream into the void. Chaman could stand it no longer. Reaching out, he pulled the first paper, the one with the ‘agreement’. He could feel adrenaline course through him as he did the unthinkable. He tore the paper to shreds, right there, till all that remained of it was confetti. Meaningless scraps. The message was clear. He stood up and with a nod, turned to leave.

Before he knew what was happening, Aman was in his arms, embracing him tighter than ever before. The repeated ‘thank you’s and dampening of his nightshirt – just a little – made his spirits soar sky high. This was his Aman. He was free once more and all it took was a little defiance and taking that leap. Takin a stand and doing the right thing, choosing the right side. His arms lifted of their own accord and arms tightened around his shoulders. They stood there, their shared euphoria almost palpable. In that moment, both chose not to acknowledge their growing fear of what would happen next.

After a moment, Chaman pulled away. Once more, he saw Aman, the real one. Broad, albeit watery smile and that spark in his eyes. He’d gained a new lease of life and Chaman was glad to have done one thing right, at least. The amused voice in his head brought up the fact that this whole situation was very out of syllabus. In that moment though, Chaman knew he’d gotten the question right, in the most important test till date. After all, what was more important than family, than love?


End file.
